


grave mistakes

by Werepirechick



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Grave Sand is Not For Teens, Multi, One Shot, Transformation, can be seen as strong friendship instead, don't do drugs kids, inspired by artwork that i'll link within, kinda squicky for a moment there, the poly ship is a minor part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 15:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: Grave sand has some side effects on humans that are... unexpected.





	grave mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> tw: for mouth horror specifically, but not in heavy detail.

Grave sand _burns._

It’s bare seconds, passing in a painful flash- but Jim _feels_ the grit scrape against his sinuses, leaving his airways raw as he hacks, lungs struggling to supply him air. And then it’s over, just like that, and a surge of energy washes over him. Like stepping into the cold depths of a pool, diving deep downwards.

“How do you feel?” Strickler asks him, watching him with sharp eyes.

“_Angrier,”_ Jim replies, voice rough. He feels himself smile. The energy- the emotion- it’s pulsing through his veins. It’s incredible. It’s intoxicating.

“Good,” Strickler says, bursting into brilliant green arcs of light as his body twists and changes, horns curving over his skull as he raises his head. “_Use_ that anger,” he encourages with a grin of deadly fangs.

Jim can feel himself shivering, deep inside, at the blatant challenge. An invitation to _fight._ The Amulet responds to his silent call- wrapping him in its armor and power, forming Daylight in his grip. Another flash of light and Jim glances over his shoulder, seeing Nomura stalk predatorily towards him with her blades.

Two highly skilled opponents. Both of whom have fought him to a standstill before. Jim feels no fear. He snarls right back at the changelings, reveling in the way he feels. He’s _stronger,_ he’s _faster, _his heart races and his throat aches, and he meets his mentors’ attacks with zero hesitation.

It’s a blur, for a few euphoric moments, where there’s nothing but Jim, his weapon, and the changelings he’s beating back. Jim growls, shouts wordlessly- he kicks the larger, heavier changelings across the floor more than once, keeping up and _surpassing_ them as they clash. Strickler has no close-range weapon, he falls back all too quickly. Nomura is brutal and unyielding, but she doesn’t expect the strength Jim has now. Her swords clatter against stone, her skull impacts against the wall he shoves her into, her claws shriek over the metal of his shield and Jim presses _harder-_

The interruption that comes will be something he’s grateful for, later. In the moment, however, Jim steps back from Nomura and turns to his first and dearest mentor, and all he sees is someone _interfering_ with his victory.

Jim points his blade at Blinky. He takes _swings_ at him, though they’re not truly meant to harm. Just intimidate. His words come between coughs, the energy in his body beginning to hum fiercely, urging him to fight _more, _to give it _outlet-_

“Master Jim, look at me,” Blinky says, holding him carefully but firmly. Jim tries to pull away, but the troll keeps talking, keeps him close and still. The words that come are warm, soothing, “-_for your human heart,”_ and it pulls him back up from the depths.

Jim steps back, coughing harder as the corrosive enhancer in his body shifts. The Amulet’s power recedes, the armor vanishing; releasing him from the bloodthirst. He’s sickened, as his head clears, by the fact that he’d fallen so deeply into that desire.

“I’m- sorry,” Jim rasps, coughing still, “I- I lost myself.” He tries to say _thank you_, but the coughing won’t stop and he bends, pounding a fist against his chest.

Blinky turns on Strickler, launching into an angry conversation with him. Their clash of mentalities grows distant as Jim keeps coughing. His ears are starting to ring. His throat _aches._

“Jim?” Nomura’s voice asks, a hand touching his back. Jim tries to respond but can’t get a single word out. He’s beginning to hyperventilate, but he can’t _stop,_ coughing as the grave sand does something- else. Before it’d been flowing through him, circulating the unnatural aggression and energy. Now it’s- it feels like it’s seeping into something _deeper_, like it’s forcing itself into the rest of his body-

A lightning strike of agony abruptly explodes in his chest. Jim can’t even cry out, robbed of air.

“_Jim!”_ shouts Blinky, but Jim can’t raise his head and look to him. The pain radiating from his ribcage is _climbing,_ spreading outwards.

_His fingers, his jaw, his_ _eyes-_ Jim only hears the thundering of his own heart as he clutches at his mouth, deaf to whatever is happening around him. Oh god, the pressure is building, pushing to escape, make it stop, he’ll do anything, just make it _STOP-_

Something _gives,_ a sweet relief of pressure for a split second, and then iron liquid fills his mouth and a new kind of throbbing pain takes the other’s place. Jim doubles over completely and heaves, red and spit splattering the stone. Jim coughs and shudders, tears blurring his vision as he gasps raggedly.

Little white pearls fall into the slurry, one by one.

_Those are teeth,_ Jim thinks outside the pain, just as his eyes roll back and he passes out.

-/-

“For what it’s worth, young Atlas… we were unaware these particular side effects could occur.”

Jim doesn’t look at Strickler or Nomura. He keeps his eyes fixed on a corner of the room, focused on the rough-hewn walls of it.

“We’re already looking into a way to reverse it,” Nomura adds in a subdued tone. Jim still doesn’t answer, or acknowledge their presence.

“I swear it,” Strickler says, low and sad, “we will fix this for you, and I am deeply, deeply sorry for allowing this- to happen, to you.”

Jim curls his fists into the blanket covering his legs.

“Leave,” he manages to say, throat hoarse. “W- we’ll talk. Later. But for now…”

“Of course,” Strickler says softly, and that’s the end of it. The two changelings walk out, drawing the curtain closed; leaving Jim to sit in Blinky and Arrrgh’s bedroom, wrapped in an overlarge blanket and shadows to hide within.

Gingerly, with a hesitant hand, Jim reaches to poke at his aching jawline. The claw that’d burst from under his nail throbs in time with the teeth he presses against.

Jim hasn’t looked in a mirror, but he knows. He’s already searched his face and body- he knows about the teeth, the claws, the point to his ears, the way his vision is perfectly suited to the dark room he’s in… He knows what it all means, what it all looks like.

He drops his hands to the blanket and twists them into fists again, hunching over his knees and shaking. Tears drop onto the fabric not for the first time today, an echo of his _teeth_ falling out of his mouth.

The parallel forces him to unlock his clenched jaw and let out a wounded cry. His voice wavers and cracks, the internal damage done by the grave sand persisting still. Jim doesn’t spare a thought of concern that he might worsen the injuries; the noise pours out of him and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.

The curtain is suddenly yanked open and he hisses, flinching and covering his sensitive eyes. “_Oh- shit, shit, I’m sorry Jimbo,”_ says a more than familiar voice, and the curtain is hastily closed again. Jim doesn’t even have time to blink the spots out of his vision before two sets of arms are thrown around him.

“Blinky told us what happened,” Claire rushes out, fingers already shifting to touch the ruined parts of him, searching, caressing- “Oh, _Jim,_ how could they? Why- god- I’ll, I’ll strangle them both-”

“Should’ve never left you alone with them,” Toby says to the crook of Jim’s shoulder, squeezing his middle so tightly it hurts, but in a good way. “I should’ve- we should’ve _been there,_ maybe then we’d’ve been able to steer you off this fucking- this _horrible idea, what were you thinking?”_

“I- I just-” Jim stutters, trying to answer both of them. His hands hover, not quite touching them, keeping the claws away from their _human_ skin. “I need to get stronger,” he says, the mantra he’s been repeating for what feels like ages now. “They were just helping me, I _asked_ them to, and- I’m the one who, who let Strickler- it’s my _own fault._”

“_Bullshit,”_ Claire curses, eyes blazing. “_They_ did this, they hurt you and I’m going to- to-”

“Drop them into the shadow dimension forever?” Toby suggests in a dark tone.

“_Yes,”_ Claire hisses vindictively.

“Guys, no, we need them, they were just doing what I- what I asked them-” Jim breaks off as he loses his voice, biting his lip and slicing into the thin skin immediately. Right, he has _fangs,_ small but _sharp_ fangs that jut up over his lip in an overtly inhuman way, something nothing short of _removing them_ can fix, and oh god how will he hide this from his mom? How is he supposed to hide his ears? His _eyes?_

“_What am I gonna tell my mom?”_ Jim whispers harshly, and starts crying in earnest.

Claire makes a wordless noise of anger and sadness, carding her fingers through his hair and letting a few of her own tears slip free. A tissue is pressed gently to his bleeding lip, held in place by Toby as he looks at Jim, brushing away his tears while ignoring the ones on his own face.

Jim wants to curl up and hide himself, cover up the pieces of himself he tainted, cheating for power. But he’s held between his two closest confidants and he can’t bring himself to pull away, instead slumping into the hold, burrowing into their comfort and care and clinging to that safety.

-/-

Sometime later: Claire holds his hand without fear of the claws that’ve grown there; Toby pokes the tips of his ears and jokes about Lord of the Rings. They beam at him pointedly until Jim will nervously smile back, not letting him sink further into his mire of self-loathing.

The adults shuffle back and forth behind the curtained entrance, unsubtly checking on the three of them. Sooner than later, they’ll be pulled out of the safely shadowed nest they’re huddling in. But _not yet_, as stated firmly by Claire when Blinky comes to ask after them.

Jim huffs, embarrassed by the fuss everyone is making over him, pressing his face into the softness of Toby’s sweater vest to hide his flush. Claire’s lithe arms wind around his waist and hold him like wrought iron, refusing to let him slip away even a little. Toby’s arms are warmer, stronger, wrapping around both of them best he can and helping their trio lower themselves gently onto the wide pillows that make up the bed.

Jim’s future has become even more uncertain, another trial added to his seemingly endless path to their ultimate goal. But for a moment between the three of them, tangled up and shielding themselves from that uncertain future, he can breathe easy.

**Author's Note:**

> [here's the awesome art that inspired this drabble!](https://arrival-layne.tumblr.com/post/188440669502/it-changes-your-nature-some-of-the-changes-are) arrival-layne on tumblr understands my fascination with accidental transformation scenarios, and i'm so happy they reinvigorated my muse for trollhunters :)


End file.
